The Family Friend
by virtualfindingsdocumented
Summary: Five years-old Beatrice Baudelaire is taken by VFD and meets a girl who has some answers.


_**A/N**_ : Entry for Fictober _2018, day 18._

 _ **Prompt:**_ _"You should have seen it."_

* * *

It felt like she had been crying for an eternity. Beatrice wasn't very sure of where she was or what was going on, she only knew that she hated it all. She hated that place, she hated those people, and she hated being there. All she wanted was to sit on Violet's lap and hear her singing a lullaby, or have Klaus read a story for her and kiss her forehead, or play and laugh with Sunny and then drink hot chocolate. She wanted her home. She wanted her family. She wanted her ankle to stop hurting. Were they looking for her? Would they find her soon? She didn't know, and it only made her cry more.

Eventually the five years-old girl rested her forehead against the green wooden wall and tried to stop sobbing. Her family was not there. She had no idea of where she was, but she had some hints of who the people who took they there were. Not individually, but as a group. Violet, Klaus and Sunny avoided the topic, but she had gathered hints from their quiet conversations when they thought she was asleep, from the funny notes and drawings Klaus made, and from some books she had read. It had seemed unimportant and made little sense back then, but now as she stared at her ankle and the freshly marked eye stared back at her, the pieces were slowly fitting together.

Beatrice didn't know well what it meant, but if they had tried to hide it from her, then it was something bad. And those people, they had separated her from her family, they had hurt her, and she knew they couldn't be trusted. She had to get away from there and find her family again.

As she stood up from the plain bed and finishing drying her tears, she noticed another girl standing in the room. She was older than Beatrice, and her eyes looked sad. Her hair was curly and she wore the same green uniform that those people told Beatrice to wear. She held a bag of cookies, but she didn't seem interested in eating them.

The sight of the cookies made Beatrice's stomach growl. She looked down, embarrassed. It felt like her last meal was in another life, before she was taken to this mysterious place.

The girl reached out the bag of cookies to her.

"Here, I thought you would like it."

Beatrice looked at the snacks suspiciously. After all that had happened in the last day, she wouldn't be surprised if the cookies were poisoned just like the apples in that story about the princess who ran away from her chores in the castle only to start doing chores for stranger. She didn't want to have a boy kissing her. That was gross.

"I took them from the kitchen." The girl explained. "They're only for the adults. I find it very unfair."

"Don't they get mad at you for doing it?"

"Only if they find out about it."

"It's wrong to lie to your elders." Beatrice noted.

"It is wrong for my elders to bring children here against their will, away from their families."

Beatrice frowned. Were there more children like her there? Was that girl also like her?

"Who are you?"

"You can call me F."

"What is your real name?"

The girl lowered her eyes. "Friday. But no one calls me that here." She looked up again. "It's okay, you can laugh."

Beatrice shook her head. "It's rude to ridicule someone because of their name." She said, serious. Friday smiled at her. "Did they take you from your family too?"

"Not exactly. I left my mother when things became too hard and she refused to give me answers. I knew she had two sisters, and I was trying to find them when I was taken." Friday explained. "My father… My mother had said he had passed away when I was very young, but I learned that was a lie too. He may still be alive."

Beatrice frowned in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Friday."

Friday shrugged, but her eyes were sad. "I guess I am an orphan for now, until I find out the truth."

"I am an orphan as well." Beatrice said. "My father died before I was born, and my mother died giving birth. I never met either of them. And I was taken away from my guardians."

"I'm sorry." Friday said, kneeling down near Beatrice's bed. "You never told me your name."

Beatrice though for a second before answering truthfully. "Beatrice Baudelaire."

"Baudelaire?" Friday repeated, eyes widening.

The people who took her had not reacted well to learning her name. They stared and frowned, and one man even shouted at her, telling her not to lie. Beatrice didn't understand it. She wasn't lying. Beatrice Baudelaire was her name, the only name she had. She took the name of her adoptive family, even if none of them were her parent. It would feel weird for her to use one of her parents' surnames, as she had never met them. She knew them only from the stories her guardians told, and she was proud of them, but her real family was the one who raised her.

"Your parents…" Friday tried asking, but seemed to lose her words.

"It's not my parents' name." Beatrice explained. It was more than she had the chance to tell to the people who took her. "It is my guardians'."

"Your guardians are the Baudelaire? The three siblings?"

"Do you know them?" Beatrice asked, cautious.

"They stayed for a while on an island that is not in any map." Friday half asked, half affirmed.

"I was born on that island."

"I used to live there."

The two girls blinked at each other, processing this new information. They had something in common. They could even have met before.

"I know who you are!" Friday said. "Your mother… I met her. Briefly. She said she knew my father. My mother said she was not to be trusted."

"My mother was an honest and noble woman." Beatrice said, defensive.

"I have no doubts. All my mother told me were lies and more lies." Friday said, bitterly. "Kit Snicket. That's your mother's name, right?"

Beatrice nodded, convinced now that Friday really was telling the truth.

"What is this place, Friday?"

"It's… a sort of school. There are other children here, and we have classes, and there are a lot of unreasonable rules."

Beatrice looked down at her ankle.

"I have seen this eye in Klaus' notes before…"

"It's not an eye. It is the insignia of a secret organization. Everyone here has it."

"A secret organization…" More pieces connected in Beatrice's mind. She felt annoyed at herself for not being more attentive when eavesdropping. There seemed to be so much she had had the chance to learn but had not. "They're the people who took us here, right? They're wicked."

"My father belongs to it." Friday said. "And my mother used to, as well. She went to the island to run away from them."

Beatrice tilted her head.

" _'People aren't either wicked or noble,'_ " Friday said, in that tone people use when quoting someone else. " _'They're like chef's salads-'_ "

" _'With good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.'_ " Beatrice finished it. "I never understood what this means."

"It means things are not simple." Friday explained. "There are good people who do bad things, and bad people who do good things. And sometimes what is bad for someone, is good for someone else. Those people hurt us, but it doesn't mean that they can't be doing noble things out there. I've met people who believed the Baudelaire siblings to be dangerous criminals, but for you they are the family you long to see again. My mother hates my father, but…" She trailed off.

Beatrice wasn't sure if she fully understood it all, but she nodded even so.

"Long before we were born," Friday continued. "This organization was broken in two opposing factions. Before that, all members fought for the same goals and followed the same philosophical and literary principles. But these two factions, they wanted to destroy each other using everything they considered fair. Families were broken and lives were lost. Then a big disaster happened, leaving both sides in pieces. It is like a glass that was broken in shards. Each shard is a group with its own ideas and purposes. They still share some symbols," she leaned her head towards her own ankle, "and some methods, but they have very few links besides that shared history."

"How do you know so much?" Beatrice asked. It made some sense, but she felt Friday was keeping parts of it hidden, using a vague language on purpose.

"I've read a lot. I want to find my father."

"And I want to go back to my family." Beatrice said. "They won't let me out, will they?"

"No." Friday replied. "And I've never heard of any child managing to run away. They have a heavy security. But… it has flaws." She lowered her voice. "I am trying to form a plan to run away. It is hard but I don't think it is impossible."

Beatrice's eyes lit with hope.

"Would you…" She started asking, but stopped mid sentence feeling very nervous.

"Of course I will take you with me." Friday smiled. "I owe my life to the Baudelaire siblings. It will be a pleasure to help you go back to them."

Beatrice smiled back.

"They saved your life? You have to tell me this story."

"I will. You should have seen it! Maybe I can start as we walk to the library." She said, standing up and leaving the cookies on a table.

"They have a library?" Beatrice asked, surprise. "And they let us go there?"

"It's the only good thing here. They never forbid us from going to the library."

Beatrice stood up from the bed, feeling excited at the idea of being in a library again.

"Thank you, Friday. For everything. I thought I would be all alone here."

"You don't need to thank me." Friday said, smiling. "I'm sure we will be good friends."


End file.
